


Skin

by xTheCherryx



Series: Stripper [2]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Past Ace/Law, Romance, Smut, Stripper!AU, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-21
Updated: 2017-06-21
Packaged: 2018-11-17 00:49:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11264541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xTheCherryx/pseuds/xTheCherryx
Summary: When Law is unable to concentrate on his books one night, he decides to pay the strip club Ace has told him so much about a visit, where he meets a certain blond stripper. But he is not the only one intrigued.Careful, Law... Getting involved with those two is not the safest way to play.





	Skin

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this is the sequel to my stripper!AU story 'Yeah, I said it...' It has been waiting for me to finish and revise it since summer last year... ^^" Most of the story is written, but since so much time has passed, it's in need of some heavy editing.
> 
> Please read the tags for warnings. Also, I am most likely going to add tags during the course of the story.
> 
> The title and the lyrics are from Rihanna's song 'Skin'.
> 
> And now, please enjoy! :3

**Skin**

**No heels, no shirt, no skirt, all I'm in is just skin.**  
**No jeans, take 'em off, wanna feel your skin.**  
**All I wanna see you in is just skin.**

* * *

Milky fingers teasingly travelled down two perfect rows of abs barely hidden behind the revealing, interwoven threads of a tank top, callused hands feeling up the body they belonged to, its spine pressed against a gleaming pole. The man threw his head back, exposing his throat, lips parted in a quiet, rapt sigh as one finger daringly slipped underneath his waistband, tugging at it, revealing just a bit more of what wouldn’t be exposed, granting a glimpse in the secrecy of privacy for a short, blissful moment. Then the man’s hand roamed over his almost naked chest again. He grabbed the pole, opened his eyes and looked across the room with a half-lidded, seductive gaze before sliding down, spreading his legs wider the lower he got.

Law slightly shifted in his cushioned red chair, golden eyes darting from the stripper’s gorgeous face to his free hand, which was following the inside of a thigh—still clad in ripped jeans—all the way to the knee, pushing the stripper’s legs even further apart.

The man’s repertoire was wide, filled with a lot of beckoning and a variety of suggestions: the provocative roll of a hip, the shy bite of a lower lip paired with a burning gaze out of sea blue eyes. He appeared to be oh so many opposites—playful yet determined, innocent but dominant—and Law was certain it was all just an act. Everything in this strange world was.

This wasn’t his first visit to a strip club, of course, but certainly his first to this special gem. At the beginning, he had sat in the crowd, watching various men peel themselves out of tightly fitting clothes to cheers and fluttering notes, sipping on a glass of blood red Bordeaux, savouring the taste on his tongue as his eyes savoured the perfectly sculpted half-naked bodies swaying before them.

His evening hadn’t been very exciting so far. Up until Ace had dragged in his older brother Thatch to be patched up, the original plan had been to catch up on his reading. But when they had taken their leave again, he hadn’t been able to properly redirect his concentration back on his book. So after another hour of futile attempts, he had capitulated with a frustrated growl. He had tossed the book aside, shrugged out of his lab coat and into a thicker black one to keep him warm in the icy air outside before slipping on a pair of soft leather gloves to hide the conspicuous letters inked into the skin of his fingers. After firmly shutting the door to his flat, he had turned the key twice before he had walked down the few stone steps to the street, already spotting his car parked on the other side of the road.

His car was anything but fancy. Fast, yes, but nothing anyone would admire. It had been a courtesy of the Whitebeard Family, his secret employer no one, especially not the medical faculty where he was teaching, was to know about. At first, he had refused the car, just like he had tried to refuse so many other amenities, but they had insisted, and in the end, he had been in no position to turn them down. Just like he had been in no position to turn down their job offer back then either, for the underground branch of Whitebeard Corp. not only offered money but also protection. The kind which a runaway son from another cartel was in desperate need of if he wanted to stay alive and pursue his studies unhindered.

By now, though, he had come to terms with his life, its twists and turns, and in this moment, he was even fond of his car, for without it he would have never attempted to make it to the other end of town in the ghastly winter weather at this hour of the night to visit this famous strip club Ace had raved about near endlessly—before he had met his current boyfriend there and had stopped going.

Apparently, said boyfriend had been working as a stripper here, but Law couldn’t quite remember. He had never met the man and, admittedly, whenever Ace started talking too much, regardless the topic, he only pretended to listen while his eyes zigzagged over the page of another book describing in much detail a certain surgical procedure. The rambling would usually stop the moment Ace noticed, followed by a whiny complaint that Law was never, _never_ , listening to him before he would storm off, but not without flinging some last friendly insults in Law’s general direction, and only for him to show up again a couple of days later, the whole game starting anew.

Still, when Ace had told him he had found someone he wanted to spend a greater part of his time with, Law had been genuinely happy for him, because he had been under the impression that ever since Ace had taken over the Whitebeard Corporation’s underworld branch, he had felt rather lonely.

For appearance’s sake, most of his brothers couldn’t be seen with him in public anymore, so it had fallen to Law to keep him company. Suffice to say, Law hadn’t been amused, but Ace had simply kept on showing up at Law’s underground practice more and more often, and after a while Law had actually started to enjoyed it, especially when he had had time to kill waiting for the results of an experiment he had been running. He had made them strong coffee and they had introduced each other to their favourite movies. Law had tried to convince Ace of the beauty that were books while Ace, in turn, had tried to bring Law closer to the mysteries of martial arts. Needless to say, they both had failed. However, there had also been times when no words had been spoken, the quiet rooms of Law’s flat filled with only sounds of pleasure as he lay writhing on his bed, at the mercy of Ace’s expert hands.

But that was in the past now.

They had reverted to just being friends over a year before Ace had met his current boyfriend, and during the year the two had been dating since, most of Ace’s and Law’s time together had been reduced to medical emergencies and it lay in the nature of such events that there was hardly time for idle chitchat. Though, maybe, he should have at least made an attempt to remember the boyfriend’s name.

 

Right now, however, Ace’s boyfriend was the last thing on his mind, not with that gorgeous blond stripper grabbing the hem of his tank top to slowly pull it upwards, over his head, skilfully shaking out his locks and tossing the piece of clothing aside before opening his fascinating eyes again to look at Law with an intensity that made his spine tingle in excitement.

When the man had walked out on stage to much cheering of the audience, Law had been captivated by his confident appearance, the teasing smirk on his lips, the seductive gleam in his eyes. The way his gaze had roamed over the crowd, how he had licked those sinful lips of his while his perfect body had hugged the shining silvery pole, thighs sliding along smooth stainless steel, long fingers carding through golden hair while those of his other hand had been allowed to roam freely to tease and please the crowd, mouth forming around a silent moan. Of course the men in the crowd had gone wild, whistling and cheering and throwing more bills onto the stage.

More elegant but highly erotic acrobatics at the pole had followed and Law had marvelled at the ease with which the stripper had moved his body. His muscles had rippled under the strain while an effortless, playful smile had adorned his beautiful face. After another twirl around the pole the audience had been presented with his perfectly formed backside, and of course every guest in the room had leered at his ass. Being the professional that he was, he had taken full advantage of it.

Rolling his hips, he had slid down into a crouch, the glimmering fabric of his tightly fitting briefs sparkling in the stage lights, and the men in the first row had leaned forward excitedly, stuffing notes into the waistband before he had slowly stood up and twirled around the pole again, granting them a dazzling smile and a wink. Law had involuntarily held his breath for a moment, too enraptured by what he was seeing, pure seduction given a human shape, and the moment his mind had been clear again, he had headed for the bar, requesting a private dance from the man up on stage.

By now, his sanity was regretting his decision, because every time he was given another look out of those enticing sea blue eyes, his heartbeat quickened and a burst of tingling lust jolted through him. He wasn’t someone to be turned into a slave of his physical desires easily, for that he was too composed, too smart, too proud. But to every rule, there were exceptions, and this man clearly was one of them. His actions seemed to promise everything yet nothing at all. He was the materialisation of burning passion and wild fantasies, the enticing sway of his hips and the luring gaze of his sparkling blue eyes spinning a net of mind-wrecking illusions around everyone who had mindlessly stumbled into his lair, making them a captive of his charms and traits. And the longer Law had looked on and indulged in the ravishing sight before him, the more his physical needs had pushed his wits to the back of his mind.

It was maddening, really. The man created expectations that every bewitched onlooker knew would never be fulfilled, and yet the sight was too tempting to not continue looking, that tiny glimmer of hope sparked anew with the next meaningful gaze paired with a suggestive roll of the stripper’s hips. And in the end, all of it was intensified by the option of paying a little extra—an offer, a sacrifice before his ravishing beauty—to be granted his touch, a close dance, in privacy. But that was it. The last piece of clothing would remain in place and the customers would go home alone with nothing but the sheer image of his almost naked body haunting their minds and the itch to touch him burning in their fingertips.

They were all hopeless idiots in here and, much to his chagrin, Law could now count himself among them.

On the other hand, there was also something exciting about the whole situation. He was expected to lose his mind and act driven by his needs, the lack of overt, longful staring, the trembling of an aching, yearning heart almost an insult to the stripper’s art. In here, there was no need for Law to stay in control, to remain analytical and act logically; he could give in, be headless, the stripper wouldn’t mind, not if he was presented with an opportunity to get more money out of him. And especially that specimen before him clearly belonged to the more cunning types of his trait, fully aware of his abilities and what he was capable of doing to Law, willing to shamelessly exploit Law’s weaknesses. And, judging by the mischievous, amused glint in his eyes, he was not just doing it because of the money but because of the powerful position it put him in, of having yet another fool entirely at his mercy.

So after he had overcome his initial resolve—or more like once it had been overcome for him—Law had started to enjoy himself thoroughly, observing with much delight and admiration the various creative ways in which the stripper took him apart. In the end, it was a give and a take. He would offer money and the stripper would offer his services. As long as he had money, he had the man’s attention, the equation was really that simple, and for once he was happy money had never been an issue.

Right now, the stripper was getting rid of his ripped jeans, slowly peeling his strong thighs and then his perfectly shaped calves out of them before tossing them aside, revealing another set of tightly fitting, sparkling briefs before returning to the pole to curl himself around it, arching and swaying and twirling in the air, parting his lips and his legs, graciously crawling and rolling on the stage floor until Law swallowed dryly, loins burning with suppressed need as he clung to his last shred of self-esteem. However, when the stripper walked around the pole one last time, granting Law a final glimpse of his well trained perfection, he hurriedly buried what was left of his pride and reached for his wallet under the stripper’s knowing smile, producing from it two bills to clarify his intentions. The stripper cocked his head in fake curiosity, blond locks falling in his face.

“What can you offer me for this?” Law sounded too rash, too breathless, for his own liking.

The man got off the stage and crossed the distance between them with so much grace Law could barely believe he was half-naked and barefoot, coming to a halt before him and snatching the two bills from between Law’s gloved fingers, smirk widening.

“You just can’t get enough, huh?” the man mocked.

For a moment, Law was lost for words—a rare occasion—the stripper’s voice so full with the confidence he had displayed all night. Then he regained his senses, thankfully, and leaned back into his cushioned chair, offering a smirk of his own. Two could play at this game.

“Any complaints?”

The stripper snorted before slightly shaking his head.

“Not in the least. How about a lap dance?” His voice was sweet like warm honey but with a burning, seductive undertone, and Law licked his lips, holding the amused, slightly challenging gaze he was given, once more marvelling at the beautiful colour of the stripper’s eyes.

“I’m all yours,” he said.

The stripper’s smirk widened and he went to fetch a more convenient chair from a corner of the room, which was then placed between the stage and the chair Law was currently sitting in.

Law rose when he was beckoned over with a whispered, “Come here then.”

He sat down, looking up along the naked torso of the man who was about to dance for him again and into his gleaming eyes. Briefly, he noticed the scars running up the man’s left side, barely visible in the dimly lit room, but he didn’t have time to dwell on it, all coherent thought forgotten when a strong hand found its way into his unruly raven hair, tilting his head back, exposing his throat, and suddenly their faces were so close their lips almost touched. Law’s breathing became more laboured. For a moment, he was convinced he would be kissed. But of course he wasn’t and the moment passed, leaving him reeling, struggling for air, for solid mental ground to steady himself with, his fumbling, trembling fingers finding the chair, clinging to it as if it was a lifeline, the last thing tying him to reality.

A momentary memory of the last time he had felt the need to beg for more crossed his mind and with it the image of two dark, hungry eyes, set in a freckled face, staring up at him from between his legs together with a smile painted by the devil itself. It wasn’t helping in the least.

Law shuddered, the tingle settling in his limbs far too pleasant. The stripper’s fingertips played with the two golden rings pierced through his earlobes, traced the side of Law’s neck, their point of unadulterated contact, where the stripper’s skin touched Law’s, hot, scorching. The man let his hands wander across Law’s chest, straightened his back and teasingly caressed Law’s shoulders as he stepped behind him. Again, the stripper’s hands roamed, down Law’s pecs, over his tense abs, clearly feeling him up, reaching for the waistband of Law’s pants, briefly tugging at it before returning. Law closed his eyes, unable to watch.

What would he give to have this man for just one night? Let _his_ hands roam over the man’s naked chest, the finely chiseled abs, to make out every curve of bone and muscle and firm flesh, leave his marks and have the stripper’s body arch into his touch while he was buried deep inside him, coaxing the sweetest sounds from his full lips.

It startled him with how much force and clarity his objective presented itself. It really was that simple as well as unattainable, and Law realised that what was nurturing his fascination for the man was also the impossibility of ever being with him in that way. He was allowed to look as much as he wanted, but that was the extend of it, and he would never be bold enough to ask for more. If they had met on a different occasion maybe, but not like this. He wasn’t as daring as Ace who knew no boundaries, spurned on by every obstacle between him and his desires. No, to Law the whole appeal of their situation was the transience of it all and he would make sure to thoroughly savour the limited time they had together, for when this last dance was over he would step outside and leave to return home to his books, his projects, his _true_ objectives.

He had no time for complications and strings attached, at least that would be what he would tell himself after he had left with unsatisfied desires and only a very vivid memory to take home instead.

Calmy, the stripper finished the circle he had walked around Law on his chair without ever losing contact, his fingertips trailing down Law’s arms, the fabric of his sweater suddenly too thick, too much a barrier between them. How would those slim, deft fingers feel tracing the black ink of his tattoos across his naked chest? He would never know, but the fantasy alone was enough to heighten his senses, his golden eyes not letting the man out of his sight. He was crouching down now, hands firmly on Law’s thighs, pushing them apart, sliding up on the inside, his upper body dipping forward with the motion, big blue eyes gazing up at him, framed by long blond lashes. His full lips were parted, a sinful invitation, tempting Law to kiss them. His fingers twitched, increasing their grip on the chair and the corner of the stripper’s lips quirked up in amusement before he got up again and began dancing.

There was no rush in the sway of his hips and the stretching and twisting of his arms, but also no hesitation and not before long both the stripper’s legs were on either side of Law’s as he lowered himself down on Law’s lap, the roll of his hips even more suggestive, provoking, now, lewd yet highly sensual, nothing but cloth to separate them.

Heated glances were exchanged, the glow in the stripper’s eyes so fiery it was hard to believe it was all fake, and Law wondered if the man enjoyed what he was doing or if he was just another job, another guy who helped him pay his rent.

The man clicked with his tongue in disapproval. “You’re thinking too much,” he whispered, a playful admonition underlying his tone. “Relax.” Law wanted to object. He was relaxed, but when he opened his mouth the stripper only snorted, “Don’t even try,” but he still smiled as he said it before turning around, presenting Law with a different view.

Fair skin stretched over the rippling muscles of the man’s perfectly shaped back, glowing gently in the subdued light, but this time the scared part was not what drew Law’s attention.

Fine red lines ran over the stripper’s shoulder blades, almost parallel. They had been covered up with makeup, which had started to fade during the course of the night and now Law’s trained eyes were exposing them for what they were. Scratch marks.

But his train of thought was cut short, when the stripper ground down hard on him.

Law’s breath caught in his throat, his eyes rolling back in pleasure, hands shooting out, closing around the man’s hips, holding him in place. The stripper stilled. But even without the pause, Law realised his serious mistake. He withdrew his hands as if he had just burned his palms, embarrassment climbing high into his cheeks, his heartbeat frantic. What had he done?

“I’m sorry. I swear, I didn’t know what I was doing!”

The stripper rose and turned, expression stern as he regraded Law, looked down on him, studying the apology engraved deep into every line on Law’s face. Then triumph flared to life in the man’s eyes and he came back, taking a seat on Law’s lap again, his presence overwhelming. “I told you to relax. You did. Good boy,” he purred, voice dripping with mischief. “But no more touching now, alright?”

Law blinked befuddled before he nodded emphatically.

“Good.”

The stripper was about to resume where he had left off, when Law found his wits again, his curiosity prevailing.

“But someone does touch you,” he assessed matter-of-factly, and the man paused, surprised, a brief flicker of uncertainty in his expression before it was smoothed over by routine and his professionalism. He rolled his hips again, his abs tense, prominent, highly distracting, and Law’s mind was on the verge of giving in to the temptation.

Surprisingly, it was the stripper’s voice pulling him back from his daze. “What makes you think that?” he wondered, voice sweet and low, flirtatious.

“There are marks on your back,” Law explained. “A jealous lover perhaps? Or an unruly customer?”

The man chuckled, suddenly close enough again for Law to spot the green specks dotting his blue eyes. “You’re a nosey one,” he remarked, “and so talkative.” Their fronts touched.

This time, Law was the one who snorted in amusement. Talkative wasn’t a term people usually chose to describe him. In fact, Ace would have exploded with laughter if he had heard that. However, he also couldn’t deny that he wanted to talk more if it was with this man. Not about himself but about the stripper. He was curious; how odd... Was it a tactic he had assumed unconsciously to try and keep the man here on his lap? An attempt to prolong their time together?

“There are some people who would disagree with you,” he said. If the stripper was actually willing to talk with him, he would have to tip him generously. That was how it was done in here, wasn’t it? Favours exchanged for money. No wonder Ace had liked this place, he was making a living out of this concept.

The man regarded him, head cocked to the side as he sat, completely comfortable, on Law’s lap. “So I’m not just some people?” he asked, the lines around his mouth soft with innocence. Law’s fantasies wanted to believe that notion, but his instincts kept him sane. It was a lie, a beautiful but blatant one. There was nothing chaste about this man.

“No.” The truth had been out before he was aware of it, the game they were playing simply too compelling to try for him to preserve his dignity. Where would this lead?

“What am I then?” the stripper probed further, eyes big and round, inviting Law to share what was on his mind, regardless of the consequences.

Being honest came naturally by now, it was the role Law had to play. “You’re fascinating,” he said. The stripper laughed, and it actually sounded genuine.

“I’ve been called many things so far, but I think fascinating wasn’t one of them.”

 _Lie! It’s a lie!_ reason’s voice piped up in his head, stating the obvious. Law raised a brow in disbelief.

“Not even by the person who left those scratch marks on your back?”

The stripper’s own brow quirked upwards, his eyes narrowing, signaling Law that he had strayed into dangerous territory, but he was granted an answer nonetheless. “He calls me other things.”

Law sucked in his lips. It was time to stop this, maybe even time to take his leave; he had begun intruding on the man’s personal life. But it was too tempting… He brushed his reason aside.

“Your lover?” he asked, and held his breath.

“My boyfriend.”

Law was taken aback for a second. Either he had truly gone too far and the man was trying to get rid of him or he had simply answered Law’s question truthfully. He weighed his options and decided to be daring, bold. He was too intrigued. “What else does he like to call you?”

For the first time, the stripper seemed to really look at him. Was he trying to gauge Law’s intentions? Law tried to appear harmless, to be someone who wasn’t prying but whose lonely life was too dull not to ask such questions. He could take being considered a pervert by this man, he couldn’t take being considered a threat. But the stripper’s expression was unreadable. Slowly, the man leaned in until his lips were right beside Law's ear, his warm breath ghosting over the shell, musk and vanilla emanating from his golden locks. His voice was low with mock warning when he spoke, but the smirk that stretched his lips was clearly audible. “Careful now, dirty talk might cost you extra.”

Law swallowed dryly, lust curling in his abdomen. Had he overstepped his boundaries? Outstayed his welcome? The stripper’s body didn’t show signs of unease. Law’s fingers held tighter onto the chair before he slightly turned his head to better reach the strippers ear, cheeks touching lightly, the sensation electrifying and he said, “Money’s not a problem.”

By now, every inch of his body screamed for him to hold the man, to pull him close and kiss him senseless, but he remained in control. Words and gazes were his only means of communication; he had to be content, restrained.

“Well,” the stripper said, and brought one hand up to the side of his mouth, shielding it, as if the room was crowded and no one was supposed to hear the colourful obscenities he began to whisper in Law’s ear.

Law closed his eyes; the man’s voice and words ensnared his mind in a daydream of three bodies moving, touching, the lips of strangers kissing hungrily. A pleased moan rolled up his throat.

When he felt Law’s cock stir beneath him, though, the stripper pulled away and straightened his back. Law slowly peeled his eyes open. Under normal circumstances, he would have been embarrassed, would have fled the room to never return, but the man’s confident, even pleased looking expression told him not to be ashamed. The stripper seemed to take pride in what he had achieved or maybe he was simply used to such occurrences, though Law doubted that this happened every day. Or he wished it wasn’t, it would make him something special in a dubious way, a customer not so soon to be forgotten and not just because he had paid well.

“I’m afraid time’s up,” the man said softly, smiling before he got off. Law sighed and remained on the chair for another moment, trying to collect his bearings, hoping for his racing pulse to calm and his boiling blood to cool.

“Does your boyfriend know you work here?” He definitely was taking his chances today, but simply sitting on this chair in silence, waiting for the lust to fade under the stripper’s watchful eyes, would have been mortifying. Besides, he was in need of distraction and he wasn’t someone prone to talk about the weather. He wanted to put the time he had left with the man to good use so he could return home with almost no regrets.

“He does,” the stripper replied bluntly, thankfully turning his back on Law to collect his discarded clothing from where it lay scattered about the stage. Law’s eyes searched the spots on the man’s shoulder blades where he knew the scratch marks were.

“He cannot seriously be of the jealous type then,” he mused.

“You’d be surprised,” the stripper said, laughing, albeit fondly.

Law’s brow furrowed. He sat up in his chair, his pants already less restricting than only a minute ago. Soon, he would have to leave. “I’m really sorry to intrude on your personal affairs like this, but how does he deal with you working here? You don’t have to answer if you don’t like. It’s just... I’m curious.”

“I can tell.” The man glanced over his shoulder, a smug smile lighting up his gorgeous face; he had taken no offence. “And to answer your question: it’s not like he’s encouraging me, but he knows the value of freedom. This,” he motioned around the room with a wide gesture, his ripped blue jeans dangling from his arm, “is my job, my choice, my way of being free. It’s part of who I am. He’d never take that away from me.” There was no teasing in the man’s voice, no seduction, his role briefly forgotten. He was solely the lover now who knew of his partner’s devotion and who was grateful for it. However, it was only a moment before he put his seductive mask back into place, the gleam returning to his eyes, the curve of his lips more prominent again, ready to tantalise. “Does that answer suffice?” he asked coyly and came over.

Law nodded quietly and got out of the chair, his control perfectly in place again. He walked back to where he had left his wallet, pulled out a few more notes, folded them in half and offered them to the stripper, who had followed him. The man took them, but Law held on, gazing deep into those blue eyes that would haunt him in his dreams—both during night and day—from now on.

“Thanks for elaborating,” he said.

“Anytime,” the stripper replied, slightly inclining his head.

Then Law let go of the money and reached for his coat before he walked to the door through which he had entered the room. With his gloved hand on the knob, he turned one last time. “And thanks for the entertaining evening.”

The stripper’s smile widened. “The pleasure was all mine.”

Law bid him farewell and left. He paid for his drinks at the bar and stepped outside, the cold night air filling his nose, his lungs, clearing his head. With swift steps he strode over to his car.

This evening sure had taken a turn.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, and as always kudos and reviews are very much appreciated! Dankeschön! :)


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